A Phantom and his Sister
by SqueakyDragon
Summary: A girl goes looking for her long lost brother but nothing could prepare her for what she found. A tale a growing and learning to love. First Phantom fic please review.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: The only source I have for this story is the new Phantom movie so this story isn't going to follow the book or play or whatnot, just a small warning.

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera

--

An eight-year-old girl with slightly wavy dark hair and large blue-green eyes stared at the darkness outside her living room window. She jumped at the ear-splitting eruption from the sky, and blinked at the rapid flashes of light. The rain was barely visible in the night and the glowing moon was hidden behind the black clouds.

The little girl fidgeted somewhat on her soft chair. Her small hands absent-mindedly caressed the tiny baby outfit. The child had found it hidden in a drawer while she was looking for something to play with on the rainy day. It was a curious little outfit because it was for a boy and she was an only child … right?

"Aimee, Aimee darling I'm back," said a warm feminine voice.

"Auntie Eleonore!" the girl smiled and ran from the living room to the front door.

Aimee's aunt smiled as well and then picked the child up and spun her around once. She had not been gone long – only a half an hour to visit their sick neighbor – but she knew that was long enough for an eight-year-old on a rainy day. Suddenly her aunt noticed something in the girl's hand. Eleonore set her niece down and took the miniature clothing from her. Immediately her face fell.

"Auntie Eleonore, I found this in one of your drawers what is it? It looks like it's for a baby boy," she said innocently.

"That's because it was," the woman said solemnly.

"But, I'm an only child, was it your baby Auntie Eleonore?" Aimee asked inquiringly.

"Come, love, I think you're old enough to understand now."

Eleonore then took Aimee's hand and led her back into the living room. She sat down with the child on her lap. Aimee looked up at her aunt with curiosity and concern.

"Five years before you were born," she began staring intently at the baby's clothes, "your mother was unfortunately, well, forced to have a child by a man she never knew and didn't like." Eleonore felt that it was better to say this to the eight-year-old then to say her mother was raped, "When the baby was born it was a boy, but he was … deformed," little Aimee gasped sadly, "one side of his face was infected and … and red."

"What did mama do?"

"I told her to keep him and try to love him, but she wouldn't hear of it. She didn't want the child in the first place and his facial flaw made her want him even less. So, eventually, she gave the boy to the gypsies."

Tears streamed down Eleonore's face and little Aimee started to sniffle.

"How could mama have done something like that Auntie? I might have had a big brother to play with!" she sobbed and her aunt rocked her gently.

This poor little girl, thought Eleonore, her mother died two days after giving her life, her father left Aimee on her and her husband's doorstep never to be seen again. And now she had to hear the terrible truth about her brother. Eleonore knew she was going to have to tell the girl sooner or later, but she didn't realize how hard it would be for both of them.

Eventually, little Aimee fell asleep, Eleonore sighed and carefully lifted her up and laid her on her bed. Then Eleonore took the baby boy outfit and hid it away once more.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Blue green eyes opened to bright sunlight steaming through light blue curtains. The woman turned her head and shielded those eyes with her hand softly moaning. With effort, the twenty-one-year-old sat up her dark dreams fading from her memory.

Aimee stretched and finally climbed out of bed then headed to her bathroom. She stared at reflection for a moment, her very long dark hair slightly falling across her face. The woman sighed as she suddenly turned away. She was not a beautifully gorgeous woman, but her features were pleasant her eyes still large and outstanding.

Once done in the bathroom Aimee came out to dress and quickly formed her hair into one long braid. Glancing at the clock in her room she raced down stairs to eat some breakfast. As she quickly ate, so to not be late for work, she felt awkward in the foreign silence of her small home outside of Paris. Her best friend from school, whom she now lived with, was visiting relatives in southern France and would be gone for a long time.

After grabbing her simply decorated hat, Aimee left locking the door behind her. She filled her lungs with the crisp morning air before quickly walking down the short path, the colorful flowers blooming on either side, and exiting through the gate. Everyday it was the same routine, ambling into the downtown of her little city, and saying 'hello' to neighbors and familiar faces along the way. Pass the bakery, the carpenter, and the seamstress was, finally, the flower shop Aimee's second home and job. As she entered, the bell on the door letting out a cheerful jingle, she slipped off her light cape and hat.

"Good morning Aimee," she was suddenly greeted by a friendly voice.

"Good morning Mrs. Yves," Aimee replied automatically but politely.

Mrs. Yves was the owner of "Yves' Flowers" a kind but firm older lady in her fifties. Silver and gray were mixed in with her brown hair which was tied into a tasteful bun. Soft brown eyes watched Aimee as she went in the back to hang up her things.

"Morning Aimee!" a very jovial voice rang out close to Aimee who turned to find her co-worker whose arms were filled with roses in all different colors.

"Morning Odette, do you need help?" she asked already moving forward.

"Please," the pretty blonde and blue eyed woman nodded, "we'll also need three vases and Mrs. Yves has the arrangements for them."

"All right," she nodded taking some of the burden away from her friend. As the two walked back into the main room Aimee inquired, "Oh, has anyone brought in the newspaper yet?"

"Yes," Odette answered as they carefully put down the roses. She then picked up a piled of papers from a counter and handed them to Aimee.

"Thank you," she smiled and then looked down at the front page the big, bold statement catching her eye first:

**OPERA HOUSE DISASTER IN PARIS **

Aimee's eyes grew wide as she read on. "Last night in Paris the famous Opera Populaire went up in flames, the cause of the fire was from uncanny circumstances. Many actors, crew, and even the owners believe that the infamous Opera Ghost was the source of the disaster."

"Opera Ghost huh!" Aimee suddenly heard Mrs. Yves behind her, "Those Parisians are too superstitious if you ask me," Aimee just shrugged and continued reading.

"The only known witnesses were Christine Daae and her fiancée Vicomte Raoul de Chagny who have actually claimed to have seen the Opera Ghost and have said he was definitely capable of burning the Opera House, "A tortured soul," said Daae, "with only half a face.."

Aimee read the quote again, her dark dreams of a stormy night and her sad aunt flashed across her mind.

"Only half a face," she whispered to herself.

--

"One side of his face was infected and red … "

--

"Aimee? Aimee?" the young woman was abruptly brought back into the present by the voice of Odette.

"Sorry Odette."

"Everything all right?" she asked concerned.

"Yes –um- did you get the vases?" Aimee said to change the subject and get back to work.

Quickly she set aside the newspaper, while Odette nodded and the two of them set to work on arranging the roses into lovely bouquets. One with only red roses, another with pink and white, and the last with a few white and red filled with baby's breath.

As Aimee continued to work she kept glancing as the newspaper sitting on the counter, the frightening black words staring back at her. She tired to block it all out of her mind, it was ridiculous. This man, this Opera Ghost, was a myth – the witnesses could have easily made up anything to get attention. Besides her Aunt Eleonore said her mother gave him to the gypsies, so how could he have gotten to the Paris Opera House? But the article still nagged her.

The jovial jingle of the doorbell caught her attention; obviously Mrs. Yves had put the 'open' sign up. Aimee went into the main room only to wish she hadn't. It was Jacqueline and her ever-present third arm Stephen. Jacqueline was an old enemy from school, and surprisingly her pack of wolves – or friends weren't at her heels this morning. She was tall, thin, and had lovely honey blonde hair that actually brought out her bright green eyes. Full red lips slipped into a smirk as she saw Aimee.

"Good morning Aimee," she said sounding like some cunning snake from a fable.

"Good morning Jacqueline, Stephen, you're here quite early," Aimee said neutrally.

"Of course we're here early Jackie just couldn't wait for the flowers I ordered for her," handsome, light brown haired, but dark brown eyed Stephen cooed, those eyes locked upon Jacqueline all the while. Everyone called her Jackie, except Aimee.

Aimee just nodded disinterestedly and the quickly went to find their flowers to get them out of there. She picked up the pink and white roses with a crystal vase and returned to the engrossed pair.

"Here you are," she said handing it to Jacqueline who squealed in delight.

"Oh, Stephen it's beautiful!"

'Your welcome,' thought Aimee bitterly.

"Not as beautiful as you my love," he said smoothly.

Jacqueline smiled and kissed his cheek. Aimee cleared her throat slightly, her enemy only turned to look at her like she was scum as Stephen paid for the flowers.

"Thank you," Aimee said monotone.

"Don't worry Aimee," Jacqueline said with fake concern, "one day I'm sure you'll get a bouquet of flowers as a present," she smirked dangerously, "instead as a task."

"Good day Jacqueline," Aimee said a little more vicious then she wanted to.

Stephen placed his arm around her waist while her eyes lit up triumphantly.

"Good day Aimee," she said smooth as silk then they left.

Aimee let out a soft growl as Odette came in and rested a kind hand on her shoulder.

"Forget about her Aimee, her only goal in life is to make others feel miserable and worthless."

"I know," Aimee sighed, "I just wasn't expecting to have to deal with her this early. It can't be healthy," the two young women laughed.

"All right girls, back to work the drama is over," called Mrs. Yves.

"Yes Mrs. Yves," the flower shop girls said in unison.

A/N: Ugh, I hate first chapters don't you? They're always the most boring of the chapters, so... sorry. By chapter (I wanna say) 3 things should pick up, please review and keep reading there's more to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Aimee sat in the eerie silence of her own small office in her house. Her office was usually a place of imagination since it was where all her books were and where she came to write. She had always dreamed of becoming a successful writer, even though she was a woman. But at the moment even the beautiful orange light from the setting sun that filled the room did not lift her spirits.

Tonight her mind was desperately trying to figure everything out, as she stared at the simple newspaper. How did he even survive? Aimee was sure the gypsies did not take good care of him, especially with a face like that. Who knows what he has gone through?

--

"A tortured soul"

--

The woman rubbed her eyes. As she had read on in the article, it said the Opera Ghost was also a murderer and always a threat to those in the Opera House. But it also said he was still alive, having escaped Opera Populaire through "means unknown". They were probably searching high and low for him. Aimee didn't want to think about what they would do to the poor Ghost once they found him.

"No," she said shaking her head, "I won't let them do that to him. All he needs is someone to help him. He needs … family."

This was becoming frustrating. She didn't even know if this man really existed! Maybe she was over-reacting; she could get into terrible trouble if she went looking for him. Growling, she threw the paper into the corner of the room.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered placing her arms on her desk then resting her head on them.

If she was going to do anything it would have to be in Paris. It wasn't that far and she could easily take the short train trip there. But … then what? Where would she find out if the Opera Ghost even existed?

--

"The only two witnesses were Christine Daae and her fiancée Victome Raoul de Chagny."

--

The famous Victome most likely wouldn't be too hard to find, but she would have to do some persuading to actually talk with the couple.

Aimee stood up and went to the window to stare at the fading bright colors of the sunset. If she were a better artist like her friend she would have painted the beautiful scene of yellows, oranges, and reds fading into dark blues, purples, and black. But not tonight, tonight she was all alone with a ten ton weight on her shoulder that could certainly make a huge curve in her straight future.

"This isn't going to be easy," she decided.

The next morning at the flower shop Aimee approached Mrs. Yves to ask, or beg, for some time off.

"Please Mrs. Yves, my friend sent me a letter almost begging me to come and visit her in southern France," Aimee lied, thinking it would be more believable than saying she needed to search for her long lost brother.

Mrs. Yves just sighed as she pondered the situation over. Odette, who was eavesdropping, immediately came to her friend's rescue.

"Mrs. Yves, I think you should let her go. In the entire time she had worked here she's only taken two days off, and that was because her poor aunt had died. The woman needs a vacation from this place … and its people," she referred to Jacqueline as she pleaded for Aimee.

"You really want to go?" the older woman asked.

"Yes madam!" she nodded anxiously.

"Well, it has been a slow time lately," she smiled, "I suppose you do need a vacation. Have a good time dear, you deserve it."

Aimee smiled brightly, and hugged her employer while Odette laughed.

"Thank you so much!" she said rather desperately as Mrs. Yves hugged her back.

The twenty-one-year-old then hugged Odette and thanked her as well.

"What are friends for?" she replied.

"Next time you need a favor, don't be afraid to ask. Or if you need to get out of work too," she whispered her last statement and the two giggled.

"I heard that Miss Aimee," the three then laughed, "How long shall you be gone?" she asked.

Aimee bit her bottom lip as she tried to estimate a time frame. How long will it take for my search? I could be back in a few days if my hunting for his existent is fruitless.

"It's hard to say Mrs. Yves. My friend didn't clarify on how long she wanted me to stay. It could be a week or a month … I hope that's all right," Aimee played with the top button on her dress.

"I suppose that would be fine, but don't be gone for too long Aimee, or I'll be forced to find a replacement for you," her boss said seriously.

"I understand," she said as she grabbed her hat and cape before waving a finale good-bye and walking outside.

Taking a deep breath in and slowly letting it leave her lungs, the young woman felt better that that was over. Now, Aimee thought, to buy a train ticket for Paris. As she ambled towards the station she stopped when she crossed paths with the new Opera House. Since the Opera Populaire had done so well for Paris, Aimee's small city decided to build one of their own. So far, it had only had two operas performed there, and the city's people were still adjusting to it. While Aimee passed it by she wondered what would become of it after this Opera Ghost fiasco. Would is shut down in fear of the madman coming there? Or would it thrive since Paris' was out of business?

She hoped it would thrive for it would be healthy for her home. And maybe if she found that Opera Ghost he could somehow give them suggestions, but not in a threatening way! Aimee actually smiled at the thought of pointing her finger and yelling at the infamous mastermind for misbehaving. But her smile quickly faded as she worried that she would never find him.

Once Aimee reached the station, she bought a ticket for Paris, and would leave the next day, bright and early. On her trip back home she couldn't help but feel anxious, excited, and scared simultaneously. The young woman had no idea what would happen to her, or her future. She could easily come home futile. Or what if she found him and he despised her completely? Sighing, she clutched her blue cape and pulled it close, a few dark strands of her hair falling over her lovely face.

Back in her cozy, yet quiet house, the worried woman began packing her suitcase. First things first, she contemplated, before she torn her hair out about the Ghost; she needed to actually get to Paris and speak with … what was her name? Oh, right, Christine, she should be able to answer some of her questions.

Satisfied with her packing, a very stressed out and tired Aimee slipping into a night gown and crawled into her comfy bed. And surprisingly, that night she did not have her usual dark dreams about a little girl weeping over a lost baby boy clothes.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Hope you enjoy!

"Excuse me ... pardon me," Aimee uttered as she jostled her way onto the train and stored her suitcase away.

Finally sitting by a window, the dark haired woman tried to relax and watch the scenery go by. But it was difficult when such a weight was hanging by a thread over her head. At the moment, Aimee was mostly concerned about her meeting with the Vicomte and Christine. The two would probably pass her off as some crazy lady. How could she convince them that she may be the Opera Ghost's sister? How would she even persuade them to let her into their house? Aimee sighed as she slumped in her seat.

Before she knew it Aimee was in the Paris station. Quickly, she left the bustling place and first went to find a inn to stay at. Once finding a reasonably priced one, she settled in her room, plopping her suitcase on the single bed. Opening the curtains on her window Aimee had to smile at the view of the colorful Paris. It was only an hour or so after noon, so Aimee decided it was now or never.

At the front desk Aimee finally received the attention of the balding inn keeper.

"Pardon me sir, but could you tell me where the Vicomte is living?" she asked politely, the older gentleman pondered for a moment before slowly saying.

"Right now he lives on Avenue de Villiers, but there are rumors that he will be leaving. Though these rumors are rather uncertain ones," he pointed out.

"Thank you, could you point me in the right direction please?"

The keeper nodded leading her outside and giving her further directions.

By the time Aimee found the grand house it was later in the day but the sun did not set. She stared at the proud home for a moment already intimidated. Swallowing hard, she told herself she had to do this, that there was no turning back. As she finally mustered up her courage and started through the gate and down the short path, she noticed not too many windows were lit up, and the place seemed rather deserted. Maybe they weren't home, Aimee thought fearfully, but she had already knocked on the door.

An older maid had opened the door giving Aimee a suspicious look.

"What do you want?" she asked not very politely.

"Please, I wish to speak with the Victome and Ms. Daae - "

"Sorry no reporters! They've had their fill of your kind!" she suddenly injected.

"Oh! I - I am not a reporter - " Aimee tried to explain.

"Don't lie to me girl! What you people do to get a stroy makes me sick!" she interupted again, beginning to close the door.

"No! Wait! You don't understand!"

"Penelope? What's wrong?" came a soft, kind voice from a staricase behind the maid.

"Nothing Ms. Daae, just another annoying reporter," the maid glared at Aimee.

"No! Please! I'm not a reporter I swear! Ms. Daae I wish the speak with you about something very important to me and most likely to you too!" Aimee desperately tried to explain.

Christine finally showed herself at the door, dismissing the maid. Aimee was slightly taken aback by her warm beauty, she could tell that she was a caring person unlike Jacqueline's cold beauty.

"And what is the important matter?" she asked patiently.

"The ... the Opera Ghost," she was greeted with a dark, sad stare, "but ... but it's not what you think! I want to know everything about him because ... because he ... may be my brother."

Christine's eyes went wide with shock as Aimee's statement sunk in. She stood there unmoving her mouth opening and closing as she tried to reply.

"No, this cannot be true!" she finally said firmly.

Aimee then looked into her chocolate-brown eyes with her large bluegreen ones. Christine's face softened and she stared into them as if in a trance.

"His eyes ... " she whispered.

"Please Ms. Daae, I must know, for his sake."

Christine swallowed and blinked a few times trying to decide what to do.

"Very well come in," she finally said after a long moment. Aimee soon introduced herself as they walked through the grand house. She couldn't keep from gapping at its massiveness and splendor. Aimee felt like a lowly peasant in a king's castle.

Once they were seated in the parlor, an awkward silence filled the room.

"Why do you think the Phantom is your brother?" Christine broke the silence.

"My aunt told me we share the same mother. From the description of the baby boy my mother had had before me - a boy with only half a face - well ... who else could it be? But while I was kept in the the family, he was given away to gypsies," she explained.

"Gypsies? I do not think I know that story."

"Neither do I really. But those questions can wait. Now I must ask ... what is the Phantom like?" she suddenly noticed that is seemed no one knew his real name, if he even had one.

"He's complicated ... " Christine answered after a pause, "From what I saw and heard to those he loves he cares for deeply and would never hurt, so long as the person doesn't betray him," she suddenly seemed to go somewhere else though she continued, "To those who betray him they will pay a terrible price. He trusts almost no one and hates the world that showed him no compassion," a small tear suddenly escaped from her eyes.

"Would you ... " she was almost afraid to ask, "would you label him as insane?"

There was a long pause, Christine was never truly asled such a question. It had always been there at the back of her mind, but she never had the time to answer it. Now was the time.

"N-no, not insane ... its just ... his whole life has been one large nightmare. He's been starved of the simple joys of life. True friends, laughter, love, compassion, and ... family."

It was Aimee's turn to shed a tear as she said.

"That's why I must find him. I don't want him to be alone anymore. But I must ask what did he do to you? Did you love him?"

"Love? No, I only loved the dreams he gave me. I fell in love with his voice but not him. He was obessed with me and stalked me everywhere I went. He probably knew how many hairs are on my head. And even though he said he loved me, I knew he didn't either. He loved my talent, my singing and this love grew in a fixation that turned into a game for my heart.

"I think what happened was, he had finally surfaced and wanted to make sure no one challenged him, that no one stepped in his way. So he scared people, even murdered to show that he was at the top, to show that he wasn't afraid or vulnerable though I feel he was. Unfortunately, Raoul stepped in his way and won my heart, the Phantom had lost his game.

"In the end when he gave me the choice of either life with him or Raoul's death I realized a few things. I realized that it was Raoul who truly loved me, he would give his life for me. I realized that this was the only way that the Phantom knew how to get what he wanted- through threats and deception - he had never been taught otherwise. And both of us realized, when we kissed, that I could never love him the way he wanted me too. He wanted true love, not love by force.

"He has a loving, softer side, but he doesn't know how to completely bring it out. Mostly he does not want to bring it out because he knows he'll only get hurt. I know I hurt him, and it pains me now to think of him alone in some dark place," she paused, "In fact I don't think he even knows what love means." 

"Who doesn't know what love means? Surely not me darling?" a sudden voice interupted, followed by the appearence of the handsome Vicomte with a questioning look on his face as he kissed his fiancee's cheek, "Who is this?" he asked glancing at Aimee.

"This is Aimee she - " Christine suddenly stopped looking back at Aimee asking with her eyes if she should tell Raoul. Aimee gave a slight nod and Christine continued, "She came looking for some answers about the Phantom - "

"The Phantom!" Raoul cried angrily.

"Please sir!" Aimee quickly explained, "He ... he's my brother. I only want to find him."

Raoul was taken aback, unsure how to respond to such news. As he stared into the woman's face he could see the identical feature of determination as he'd seen in the Phantom's face.

"Why would you want to find a madman? He would more likely kill you then accept you as his sister."

Obviously the Victome had a different opinion of the Opera Ghost then Christine. This was quite understandable when all Raoul saw of the man was his murdering, kidnapping, and terrorizing. Unlike Christine who witnessed his "softer side."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. Maybe I'm what he really needs right now, someone who will stay by him no matter what."

"I just don't want to see another innocent person become injured Ms. Aimee," Raoul said with concern.

"I-I don't think the Phantom will harm Aimee. She has an aura of kindness," Christine smiled and Aimee smiled right back, "Can you sing Aimee?"

"I haven't for a long time but, yes I've been told my singing is lovely."

"That may help you as well if and when you find him."

"Would either of you know where I may find him, or where I should start looking?"

The pair exchanged glances then Raoul finally answered.

"We are not sure where he fled, but Madame Giry the ballet instructor from the Opera House may be able to help you more than either of us can."

Aimee nodded, "Where can I find her?"

"She now lives in a small home on the other side of Paris," Aimee's heart sank and she siged tiredly until Raoul contined, "I can take you there is you wish."

"That would be most generous of you! Thank you so very much! How can I repay you for all you've done?" Aimee said excitedly.

"No recompense is in order Ms. Aimee. Just find him and care for him."

"I will." 


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning the Vicomte and his fiancée met Aimee early at the inn where she was staying. Thankfully since it was so early, they didn't attract a crowd. Before they did entice people to come by the three set off in Raoul's carriage. It was a long ride and none of them said much, except for usual small comments and pleasantries.

Aimee was silent because she was very tired. She had not had enough sleep last night; the evening's conversation with the couple was constantly swirling in her head like a storm. With the two different opinions of her new friends she didn't know what to make of her brother. Right now he seemed like two different people.

"Aimee."

Christine's musical voice took her from her thoughts. She looked at the beautiful woman across from her, with Raoul's back behind her, driving the horses.

"I was wondering, or hoping that if you do find him," she hesitated and kept her voice soft as she continued, "perhaps you could write to me and tell me how he's doing?" she seemed unsure and slightly frightened just by asking this.

"Yes I will do that if you wish," she nodded then asked, "But I have heard that you may be moving. Is that true?"

"We were thinking about it, but most likely not. If we did move we would definitely not leave France, and probably stay close to Paris. Just mail the letters to our house now, it will get to me," she smiled but it faded quickly.

An hour before noon the trio finally made it to a quaint neighborhood. It was filled with children paying and older folks enjoying the noon sun's warmth on their porches. Stopping at a small blue house they climbed off the carriage. Raoul walked up to the door with the two women following behind. After he had knocked, Meg opened the door, surprised to see them. She smiled though when she saw Christine, who walked forward to hug her.

"Christine, Raoul, it's good to see you, but why the surprise visit?" she asked.

"We would like to speak with your mother please Meg, on a very important matter."

Meg suddenly noticed the young woman behind the two, then nodded and let them in. Madame Giry was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea when the group came in. She stood suddenly, but smiled at them, though also realized that someone else was with them.

"It is lovely to see you my friends, and who is this young lady?" she asked politely.

"My name is Aimee, Madame, and I was wondering if you could help me find my brother, the Phantom of the Opera," Aimee finally spoke.

Madame Giry's face fell into a frown. She had thought she was done with the man, but it seemed not yet. Then she realized that the girl had said brother.

"Your brother?" Aimee nodded, and then told her about her mother and the gypsies.

"Please, tell me what you know of him," she pleaded, and then they all sat down at the table.

"He is definitely your brother, because it was I who stole him from the gypsies and hid him in the Opera House. I always have and probably always will think of him as a genius," she replied.

"Does … does he have a name?" she faltered.

When Aimee asked this everyone turned to Madame Giry to listen.

"His second night in the Opera House I went to him and asked for his name. He said he had none but Devil's Child. So I gave him one, Erik. I had always liked the name, and I would have probably named my own child that if I had a boy instead," Meg smiled, "He came to like the name too, until his obsession took him and Phantom became his name," tears formed in her eyes as she paused.

"Erik," Aimee tried the name out. It was so simple for such a complex man.

"His first love is music," Madame Giry continued, "The first time he listened to an opera his face lit up and for once he was happy. Erik had never heard anything so beautiful. He wanted to be a part of the beauty, but with his face he thought he never could be. So he stayed underneath the Opera House, secretly composing his works of genius, until Christine inspired him to come forward," she glanced at the young singer who also had tears in her eyes, "The Opera House was his home. He only wanted to protect it, and have only the best for it!" she finished.

Aimee was silent for a moment, letting everything the ballet teacher had said sink in. Her brother was a kind and caring madman who loved only music. Aimee's head hurt, Erik had so many angles he didn't know which ones were truly him. Looking back at Madame Giry she inhaled slowly then asked.

"Do you have any idea, or clue as to where he might be now?"

"Truthfully he could be anywhere. I'm not sure how many hideouts he has around Paris. But if you're going to look for him, try underground. And maybe somewhere where music is played," Meg suddenly left the kitchen, "He may even be back in the Opera House."

"Aimee."

Everyone turned to see Meg in the doorway, holding a white mask that would cover half a man's face. Christine gasped and stood up, with Raoul quickly doing the same and bringing his love into his arms. Aimee stood as well and walked over to Meg. The room was dead silent as she took it into her hands and stared at what had covered her brother's mutated face.

"Meg, where did you get that?" asked her mother sadly.

"When everyone went hunting for the Phantom, we found his lair. I went looking for Christine and Raoul in one of the rooms. Instead I found this, resting on a table and … I took it. I don't know why, I just didn't want it to be destroyed," she explained.

Aimee just gazed at the pallid mask, her fingertips sliding over its smoothness.

"It's yours Aimee," Meg uttered.

She pressed the mask to her chest gently, and then turned to the others behind her.

"I need to find him … I have to find him," she proclaimed.

"Do you need someone to go with you?" asked Raoul.

"No I need to do this on my own, alone," she replied.

"It could be dangerous alone," he countered.

"With more people with me, it will be more so," she said and Raoul nodded, "Thank you all for your help, and for telling me about Erik, even though it opened some hurtful wounds."

"What are you going to do now? Where will you start searching?" asked Christine.

"This is where I am in need of your kindness once more, for I will start at the Opera Populaire."

Aimee frowned as she stared at the once beautiful and magnificent building before her. It was evening time and the Vicomte and Christine had made sure she had a room at an inn, and then had taken her to the Opera House after which they left quickly. The ruins in front of her certainly looked like the perfect home for ghosts and phantoms. No one was around, the police were gone, and the looters had taken their fill. It was only her and the gloriously dead Opera Populaire.

Mustering up her courage, Aimee finally stepped inside. It wasn't too dark, since the evening sun's light shined through the holes in the ceiling and walls. Entering the great hall with the large blackened staircase that led to the boxes and seats, Aimee tried to image how it had once looked. The golden statues were gone, and the drapes were scorched, ripped, and torn. As she carefully ascended the stairs, she heard a noise from behind her and quickly turned. A bird had fluttered out of an alcove and Aimee sighed with relief.

Madame Giry had told her how to reach Erik's infamous lair, if she didn't meet him along the way. As she carefully made her way to the stage, stepping over debris and burned seats, she saw the chandelier in the orchestra pit. A once spectacular object now was broken and ugly. Backstage was just as blackened and burned. Aimee had to be very cautious of her surroundings to make sure nothing fell on her head, or if the floor gave away. Finally she was walking down the spiral stone stairs to the Phantom's hideout. Chills ran through her as the darkness wrapped around her, and the cold went through her. Aimee was surprised to see a small boat when she reached the end of a corridor, and came to the underground water system. Slowly she pushed her way along the murky waters until she finally came to it.

After lighting a few candles that still stood, Aimee got a better look at the place. Glass laid everywhere and it shimmered when the light hit it. Many things had been stolen, so some areas of the stone lair were bare. In one corner there was a dusty and littered organ. Walking up to it, Aimee checked behind her then rested a finger on a dirty key and pressed. The note came out soft, sad, and sour. Frowning, Aimee moved away from the depressed instrument and decided to search the rooms. One looked like it was made for a princess, and had a sawn shaped bed, though only one silk pillow had escaped the looters. It must have been Christine's room, Aimee thought. Seeing that her prey was not in this room she swiftly went to the next. As she neared she heard shifting, and cautiously walked in. This room seemed to be Erik's, it had a closet and a few tables, and, of course, a bed with a pile of regular blankets atop it. The blankets moved slightly and Aimee pulled them away only to find a few rats which scurried away. With an exasperated sigh Aimee left the room and stared at the misting lake.

"He's not here."


	6. Chapter 6

"You gonna finish the rest of that sandwich?" asked Marc.

"Yes! So keep your filthy hands off it!" answered Christopher.

The two stagehands of the opera house on the southern side of Paris were having lunch on the front steps like they did everyday during a rehearsal. Their break was almost over and Christopher was standing up when Marc grabbed his arm.

"What the? What is it Marc?" he asked agitated.

"Look who's coming our way," Marc replied with a stupid grin on his face.

Christopher looked to see a young woman with long hair and large blue green eyes walking towards the two. Aimee had been searching for awhile to only come out fruitless. This opera house was her next target on hearing that it also had an underground area where the Phantom could live and hide. There were also rumors of strange happenings at Paris' other opera house. The two stagehands quickly stood up and tried to straighten themselves out as the pretty girl finally reached them. Aimee just stared at the two slightly dirty and gruff looking men before her, unsure how to request what she wanted.

"Do either of you work here?" she asked first.

"Yes my lady, we do," Marc quickly answered bowing a little then taking her hand and kissing it.

Aimee tried to smile as he did, but it looked more like a grimace. Christopher elbowed his friend in the ribs, who gave him an angry glare.

"What can we do for you miss?" Christopher then asked.

"I was wondering if I could um…" she quickly tried to think up something, "see the director or whoever is in charge. I'm interested in a job."

The friends glanced at each other, and then Christopher spoke up.

"The director is in the middle of rehearsal right now, and the manager is out."

"Oh," Aimee sighed disheartened.

"But I'm sure the director will be taking a break soon, so you can stay with us until then," Marc put in.

"Marc!" Christopher said annoyed.

"Really?" she said hopefully.

"Sure," Marc winked at Christopher who glared hatefully at his fellow worker, "allow me to escort you in my lady," he cooed charmingly taking her arm.

Once they were inside and Aimee was found a seat backstage to wait, Christopher pulled Marc aside.

"Are you insane? You know how the director hates people off the street asking for jobs! And when he starts yelling at her, she'd gonna point the finger at us and we'll get fired!"

"Calm down, my friend, we're not gonna get fired. Yelled at maybe, but we're too good at our jobs and he knows it!" Marc said triumphantly.

"I don't know. I'm still worried."

The old, stern director was sitting in the first row of the audience, the script on his lap and a sheet of music in his hand. Aimee was quickly shoved in his direction as the stagehands swiftly scurried off. The director's eyes slowly looked up at the woman in front of him.

"Sorry, I don't need anymore actresses or chorus members. Good day," he said looking back to the music.

"Oh, no sir, I'm not here to apply for a job of any kind. I was wondering if you would allow me to look around the opera house," she quickly said a bit nervously.

"What for?" the director asked suspiciously gazing at her again, and taking off his glasses.

"My brother, he works here you see, and the family hasn't seen him in so long. So I decided to come down for a surprise visit, please let me look for him," she pleaded.

"Well I," the director wasn't sure what to do, this never happened before, "I suppose that would be fine, just don't get into trouble. In fact – Christopher, Marc!" he called; the men were there instantly since they had been eavesdropping on the conversation, "Help this young lady find her brother would you? And keep out of trouble yourselves," he added.

They nodded and the trio was soon backstage again. Christopher and Marc then spun around and glared at the young woman.

"You lied to us," Marc stated.

"What are you really here for?" asked Christopher.

After a moment of hesitation, Aimee finally told them.

"I am looking for my brother, but he's not a stagehand or actor," she confessed, "Have either of you experienced something strange happening here?" she asked carefully.

Both blinked then looked at each other. Christopher finally nodded and then came around and took her arm.

"Come with us," was all he said as they walked away from the busy backstage.

They finally stopped in one of the many empty corridors. There Aimee watched as the two friends exchanged expressions as to who was going to tell her.

"A few weeks ago," said Christopher, "we got a new female lead. She wasn't as good as the old girl but she worked. Well, one day she was rehearsing a song, Marc and I were sitting in a catwalk when we thought we heard someone behind us but saw no one. Suddenly one of the sandbags came crashing down on the poor woman's head, just as she hit a rather sour high note too. We, unfortunately, got blamed for the accident but we didn't do it, and no one could figure it out."

"And the director, who hired the new lead," continued Marc, "kept losing the music for her solos so she couldn't practice."

"That sounds like him," Aimee sighed, "can you take me down to the underground water system? That's where he'll most likely be."

"I shall take you, my lady!" proclaimed Marc heroically taking her arm.

"Marc, you don't even know where it is," said Christopher and Aimee giggled.

"You just have to ruin everything," Marc pouted, "He always was a stick in the mud," he whispered to Aimee who couldn't help but giggle again.

"Oh for the love of – just follow me," he sighed as he turned and led the way.

"We never got your name beautiful," said Marc smoothly.

"I'm Aimee," she replied smiling.

"Lovely name, you should know by now that I'm Marc, and Mr. Stick in the Mud is Christopher," his friend sighed and rolled his eyes, "We do many important jobs here at the opera house," he gloated.

"Oh? Like what?" Aimee inquired while Christopher snickered.

"Well, we um … work with the lights and props and um …" he was beginning to think up some lie to impress her when she chimed in.

"Those are important jobs," she humored him.

"They are? I mean – of course they are," Marc said proudly.

Soon the trio was heading down underground. Aimee became more and more nervous the further down they went. Each one of them grabbed a torch from the many torches along the wall. When they reached the small stone platform that connected with the small sidewalks of the many tunnels, Aimee held out her torch to find any clues. There didn't seem to be any sign of a small boat like the one in Opera Populaire. There didn't seem to be a sign of any life at all.

"What's that?" said Christopher his voice echoing in the cold damp air.

To their right, the tunnel curved, but there seemed to be a very faint light illuminating on the wall. Aimee gasped and began to step forward when Christopher stopped her.

"Wait, let me go first. Marc, stay behind Ms. Aimee," his friend nodded.

Then the three started to make their way along the tunnel's sidewalk. As they rounded the curve they were met with the sight of a single torch hanging on the wall in a handmade holder. Below it, were more candles and the sidewalk had bee extended. There was also a small bed and even a low and simple desk against the wall. Aimee gasped again and quickly brushed past Christopher to the little home. She searched around for any signs that he was still living there. A piece of food, music sheets, and article of clothing but there was nothing. Aimee knelt down by the cold and naked bed and sighed tears forming in her eyes.

"Ms. Aimee, are you all right?" asked Marc sincerely.

"I'm just frustrated," she replied wiping at her tears, "I thought I might have finally found him, but obviously that's not the case. He's moved on, I guess this opera house didn't cut it for him," she tried to laugh, but it came out bitter and tired.

"I'm sorry, I wish we could help you more," Marc said.

"No, no, it's all right you two have helped me plenty. I'm sure you've risked your jobs for me."

"Well actually –" Christopher was quickly cut off.

"Not at all Ms. Aimee," Marc paused then said, "You know, there's a festival in town and it opens tomorrow, you should go and take a break from your search. You seem to be having a hard time."

"Thank you for the suggestion. I'll think about it," she smiled slightly.

The stagehands took her back up and led her to the backdoor of the opera house.

"Good luck in your search Ms. Aimee," commented Marc, "perhaps we'll meet again someday," he grinned and kissed her hand.

This time Aimee smiled and gave him and Christopher a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you both very much, so long," she waved and walked off, the two friends ginning and dreamily waving back to her.

As Aimee entered her small room at the inn she was now staying in, she took her light cape off and threw it onto the bed. Walking over to the window she looked out at the vast world, and tears began to run down her cheeks. Frustration, loneliness, and weariness poured out of her as she wept at her window. Was she ever going to find him?


	7. Chapter 7

The morning was bright and cheery, the weather was pleasant and warm, and many were out and about feeling lighthearted. But in a dark room at the inn laid Aimee on her side hugging her pillow. She wasn't feeling cheerful like the others who walked along the sidewalk below her window. She felt depressed, defeated, and mostly lonely. Why had she gone on this wild goose chase for a man who most likely didn't and never would care for her? What had possessed her to leave her home and friends for sadness and loneliness?

Curling up and burying her face into her pillow, Aimee shed a few tears suddenly very homesick. Why run after a murderer? She knew the answer, Christine's words were always in her head.

"He has a loving softer side ... He's been starved of the simple joys of life, laughter, love, compassion, and family."

Family, that word was constantly in her thoughts. What was a family? Mother, father, and child. If that was it then neither Aimee nor her brother had ever had a family. They were two children deprived of a mother's nurturing and a father's advice. Aimee, thankfully, had an aunt and uncle to do these things for her, but, she supposed, it still wasn't quite the same as being raised by the man and woman who created her. But at least she had known a form of a family, and knew what love was. Her dear, murdering brother was unwanted and therefore sent away, having to find some kind of family figure on his own. Madame Giry was there, but to Aimee it seemed he trusted his music more than the ballerina.

With a sigh and a sniffle, Aimee rolled over and stared at the gloomy room. She wanted to help him, and she wanted a family too.

Finally rising, knowing that feeling sorry for herself all day wasn't going to help anything, she cleaned herself up and dressed. As she braided her long hair, she couldn't help but notice a commotion outside her window. Peeking through the curtains, Aimee saw that the whole main street was clogged with banners, music, and people. It was that festival the two stagehands had spoke of. A sudden excitement overtook her, but nervousness and insecurity soon followed. She wouldn't know anyone there, and she probably really should continue on her search. But her stomach suddenly twisted as she thought of the lonely road. Perhaps she could just pass through the festival, and watch a little bit of the entertainment. She did need a break.

As soon as Aimee stepped onto the main street, her senses were bombarded. The colors of the banners, stalls, and small stages were bright and whimsical. The smell of all kinds of different foods made Aimee's stomach growl. The noises of music, singing, laughter, and the cries of unhappy spoiled children made her smile.

Now glad with her decision to come, Aimee first bought some delicious food to satisfy her hunger. Passing through the venders, she stopped to admire some elegant jewelry when something suddenly collided with her legs. Looking down, she saw a three or four year old boy, who had apparently fallen after hitting Aimee's legs, and was now searching for a familiar face. Only finding strangers, the young boy started to whimper. Aimee quickly knelt down to try and comfort the child, when not soon after she heard someone calling out a name. Looking back up, Aimee noticed a young woman with dirty blonde colored hair, brown eyes, and wearing a lively and flowing costume searching frantically.

"Sebastien! Sebastien?" she yelled.

"Excuse me miss! Is this Sebastien?" Aimee said to the girl, quickly standing.

The oddly dressed woman immediately same over and picked up the little boy, who held her tight.

"Oh my goodness, thank you so much! I thought he was gone for good this time. He's made a habit of running away from whoever is watching him," the girl explained.

"I see, I guess it was a good thing he ran into me," Aimee smiled, then she couldn't help but take another look at the colorful costume she wore.

"Oh," said the girl, noticing Aimee's gaze, "I'm a performer here with my family. This troublemaker is my cousin. I'm the dancer, Alice ... or, well, my mother was the dancer, but its being passed down to me since I'm her only daughter," she rambled, "Today's my first performance actually, and as you can see I'm nervous," she finished blushing.

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, don't be nervous. If your mother is a dancer then I'm sure it's in your blood. I'm Aimee by the way," she smiled.

"Pleasure to meet you Aimee, but I do need to go, the show is going to start soon."

"I'll come with you, I'd love to see your show."

"If you wish," Alice replied, beginning to walk in the direction of her family's stage, "but I don't know how good it will be with me in it," she sighed, shifting her little cousin in her arms.

"Aimee!"

The dark-haired girl suddenly turned to see who had called her name. To her surprise she saw Marc and Christopher waving and coming towards her.

"What a coincidence that we ran into you today!" Marc exclaimed.

"Right, coincidence," muttered Christopher, earning him a jab in the ribs.

"It's good to see you, I thought you would be working," she said.

"No, no one works during the festival," explained Christopher.

"I'll meet you at the stage, it's just over there," Alice pointed and Aimee nodded to her as she left.

"Who's your pretty friend?" asked Marc watching Alice walk away. Aimee couldn't help but giggle.

"It would seem his undying love for you just died," whispered Christopher as he glanced at the love struck Marc.

"Oh, I don't mind," she whispered back smiling, "Her name is Alice, she's a dancer, and her performance is about to start. Come, lets watch it together," she suggested beginning to walk away once more.

Though Alice might have labeled herself the worst dancer on Earth, Aimee and her stagehand friends thought she was the most graceful creature they've ever set their eyes on. She was dancing with a few others, but Alice definitely stood out and Mar couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I think I'm in love," he murmured receiving a snicker from Aimee, and a sigh from Christopher.

When it was over and Alice took her bow, the audience cheered loudest for her. She blushed a little and smiled shyly before heading backstage. The three companions hung around for awhile longer, wanting to personally congratulate the dancer on her wonderful performance. Once she resurfaced, wearing normal clothes, she smiled and came over to the three.

"Oh Alice, you danced beautifully! I've never seen anyone so graceful -"

"Or so breathtaking," Marc injected taking Alice's hand and kissing it. Alice was a bit dumbfounded at the compliment, but smiled a little, non-the-less.

"Don't mind Marc, Miss Alice, he always was the clumsy charmer," Christopher grinned.

"Oh," was all Alice could day, her head still swimming from the performance and now the charming young man in front of her.

"Marc don't frighten the girl, I'm sure she'd had a stressful morning," Aimee smiled, detaching Marc from the dancer, "Why don't I make some introductions? Alice, this is Christopher and his friend Marc. They are stagehands at the local Opera House."

Marc winced slightly at the lowly title, knowing that the pretty girl would never find him interesting now.

"Really? You're stagehands, at the Opera House?"

To his surprise, she actually sounded sincerely impressed. Marc grinned and nodded.

"My family and I have always dreamed of performing on a real stage in an Opera House!" she exclaimed dreamily.

"Not kidding? Hmm..." Marc pondered.

"No!" growled Christopher.

"What?"

"I know you're planning on getting her a part somehow. You know the director won't have it, and neither will I! I'm not risking my job - again. No offense Aimee."

"They tried getting you a part Aimee?" Alice asked curiously.

"Well, not exactly," she replied somewhat guiltily, lowering her eyes.

"Tell her Aimee, she might know something," suggested Marc, "Being a lovely performer and all," he smiled at her again, making her blush.

"Know something about what?" Alice was becoming very curious with this curious group.

"Well, I'm looking for my brother, but he loves to run and hide like your little cousin. But unlike your cousin he can cause much more damage, and sometimes does odd things," she explained.

Alice blinked a few times, trying to understand everything.

"He was that ghost that lived in our Opera House for awhile," Marc added.

Alice gasped at that, her eyes growing wide.

"Why look for someone like that?"

"He's my brother," Aimee said simply shrugging, "He's the only family I got left."

All three suddenly looked sympathetically at her. Alice quickly searched her memory for anything regarding the mystical man.

"Oh!" she made them jump, "of course, the church, it's not too far from here. Almost every night when everyone's gone, the organ plays."

"I guess he missed his organ. Is this tale true though?" Aimee asked.

"Yes, I ... I heard it once when my older cousin dared me to walk by the church at night. He wanted me to walk in too, but I couldn't. I was afraid I'd see a ghost or something else unpleasant, " she said blushing, embarrassing by her childish tale.

"I think you were brave for just going," proclaimed Marc.

"Thank you," she smiled, "And the music, it was so beautiful, but very haunted," she shivered.

"That's him," Aimee nodded, "can you take me there tonight Alice?" she asked hopefully.

"Well I -"

"I will not have two ladies wandering around alone at night. Christopher and I will accompany you," Marc bowed.

"We will?" Chistopher asked, looking at Marc like he had two heads.

"Yes we will," Marc replied suddenly pulling his friend aside, "Come on Chris, we can't let them go alone, and I really like Alice."

"You don't know her!" he retorted.

"And this will allow me to get closer to her. Please Chris, I need you in case something happens if we find this guy," Marc pleaded.

"Fine, but I'm only going for their safety," he said firmly.

Later in the evening, the four took a carriage to the church Alice spoke of. The church wasn't overbearingly large, nor was it tiny, but a medium size that made it approachable. Though, at the moment, none of the four friends wished to approach the building. It was dark and no one knew what to expect.

"I don't hear any music," observed Aimee slightly disappointed.

"Well he doesn't play every night, he could still be there," offered Alice.

"Why doesn't anyone try to catch him?" asked Christopher.

"He's just playing the organ at night in the church. No one feels that he's a large threat. And the priests wouldn't have it. They would rather have him left in peace than some mob coming to get him," Alice explained.

"Who should go in?" asked Marc, "I mean all four of us barging inmight upset his temper or something."

"Two of us should go in, and two out here watching should be fine, and I'm definitely going in," said Aimee though her courage shook.

"Me and Alice will stay here," Marc smiled glancing at Christopher.

"Oh no you don't," Christopher growled, "I came along because you said if we find Aimee's brother, you may need help incase something happened. You and I will go in, partner!"

"But I have to go in," proclaimed Aimee.

"And I'm not staying out here alone," shuddered Alice.

As the door to the church opened the four companions slowly peeked in and looked around for any sign of life. For the moment, there were none and all but Aimee sighed in relief. Entering the holy place, Aimee tried to peer through the smoky darkness. The church had probably more than a hundred candles, and only a few remained lit, while the smoke from the extinguished ones still floated about the air. As Aimee neared the organ, she looked for any clues that her brother had been there. She went to touch a few keys to see if they were warm from his passionate touch, but the ivory was cold. Accidentally playing one of the notes, Alice suddenly gasped and clung to Marc, who grinned with satisfaction.

"I don't think he's playing tonight Aimee," said Christopher glancing at the stained-glass windows.

Aimee sighed, she had missed him again. It was like one of those bad dreams where you were just out of reach of whatever it was you wanted. As she glanced around, something caught her eye in the shadows of the wall close to the organ. She slowly walked towards it ignoring Christopher's call of her name. Touching the rather rough surface on the wall Aimee realized that it was a small door. Finding the handle, she gave it a yank and it opened with a creak. Inside she saw stone steps lit by candles all the way down to another room. And if Aimee knew her brother, he'd be there.

"Aimee? What did you find?" asked Alice who was still clinging to Marc for dear life, and he, of course, put a protective arm around her.

"Perhaps, my brother," she replied without looking back, and quickly started down the stairs her friends hot on her heels.

Once downstairs, Aimee took a look around. It was just an empty room, probably used a long time ago for something. At the moment though, it was used as a home. Sadly, Aimee did not come upon her brother, but a blanket and a few sheets of music. Kneeling down, she gently picked up one of the sheets. The care that he seemed to put into every note and measure made Aimee smile.

"I'm sorry Aimee," whispered Marc.

"It's all right, I think I'm getting closer," she sighed.

"Look, he even got the newspaper," said Alice picking it up and handing it to Aimee.

Aimee glanced at it, but the words Opera Populaire caught her eye. Reading on, it said that the Opera House was not going to be destroyed, but left abandoned, and that (Aimee's eyes widened) the search for the Phantom was dying down, since all threat of him seemed to have disappeared.

"I need to go back," Aimee choked out.

"Go back? Where?" asked Alice concerned at the sudden change in her friend.

"What did it say?" Marc inquired taking the paper and trying to quickly read it.

"My friends, I thank you dearly for all your help. I'll try my best to stay in contact with you but I must go," she said while hugging them, and then quickly walking back upstairs.

As she almost ran out of the church, she was stopped by Alice calling her name.

"Aimee! Wait! Where are you going?"

For some reason she couldn't quite understand, Alice was smiling.

Aimee turned and smiled back at her friends who stood at the church door slightly amazing but oddly happy.

"Opera Populaire!" she cried waving.

A/N: Hello patient readers, I did not fall into the abyss, just into a heap of writer's block. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 


	8. Chapter 8

Aimee had raced back to the destroyed Opera House as fast as was possible. He had to be back there, if he was not Aimee would quit her search. Standing inside the drafty and rather spooky theater again, the girl's heart pounded with excitement, hope, anxiety, and fear. Though she was completely terrified, she pressed on through the dilapidating palace. To calm her nerves, especially when she drew near to where the small boat was on the waterways, Aimee softly began to hum and sing.

Finally reaching the eerie lair of the Phantom, Aimee noticed that some candles were lit. Silently and slowly she stepped out onto the few steps leading to his home. Her blue-green eyes quickly darted around searching for the man, but they were fruitless in their findings. It looked almost the same as last time, but slightly cleaner, the organ being the most organized. She cautiously continued to move about, not wanting to surprise her brother, but also not wanting to bring attention to herself. Without realizing it Aimee began to sing softly again, her heart still racing, her hands, drawn together, clenched the coat she wore. When she finally caught herself singing she stopped, but then thought better of it and sang louder. The girl's voice was heavenly even more so than Christine Daae's. As it echoed under the Opera House, her spirit lifted somewhat. Her song was of a sister's quest for her brother, and how her only wish was to find him.

"Brother, oh, brother of … mine," she sang, ending the tune on a longer note.

All was silent, Aimee sighed, this may be the end, it did not seem like he was here.

"Why do you sing of such things?" a deep voice asked behind her.

Gasping, Aimee immediately turned around, her knuckles changing to white while her adrenaline picked up speed. There before her stood a tall and looming figure half covered in shadows. As for Aimee, she stood exposed in the candle-light feeling as though her very soul presented itself before the Ghost. Swallowing, the girl finally mustered up her courage to speak.

"Because it is true, I … I do search for my brother – "

"So why do you search here in this abandoned place?" he suddenly asked rather menacingly, though still not emerging from the darkness.

"Is it not obvious Erik?"

She then prepared herself for the worst. Her feet were ready to run, her body prepared to duck or dodge. But so far his figure had not moved, he was probably still trying to process the rather unbelievable news.

"Who do you think you are? Coming into my territory, my home! How dare you! I have every right to kill you!" he growled, seething with complete rage, his body tense.

"Please! I mean not to upset you so! Do not kill me until you hear what I have to say! I know this seems impossible – "

"Of course it is impossible!" he cried making Aimee jump. He then moved away from her, throwing stuff out of his way as he went, now becoming completely immersed in the shadows, "I never had a family and never will, understand? I am alone and should remain so!"

Aimee listened though she could not see him, her eyes following where his voice moved.

"But why? Why should you be alone?" she asked confused.

"Because of this!"

The Phantom suddenly appeared in the light showing his deformed face to Aimee. She winced slightly, she had tried to picture what it would look like, but she had actually thought it would be worse than what it was. As the infamous man continued to stare at her with hate-filled eyes, Aimee suddenly began to cry though she tried to hide it.

"See? You understand – "

"I do not cry because of your face Erik!" she yelled causing him to take a step back, "I cry because of what you have gone through simply because you are not perfectly handsome or beautiful. There are plenty of deformed or so called "ugly" people in the world, and they are doing just fine, or they at least do not need to hide underground! They deal with the world and its people, they do not cower in some hole feeling sorry for themselves!" her voice rang clear within the lair, "You don't have to live like this."

Erik was speechless for the moment, trying to comprehend everything she had said.

"There… there is no compassion in the world for me I –"

"Don't let the experiences you've had with – with the gypsies or in the Opera House close your mind to the possibility of a normal, love-filled life."

"How … how do you know about the gypsies?!" he bellowed angrily taking a step toward her.

"My Aunt told me!" she defended, taking a step away and glaring at the Phantom.

"How could I possibly be your … brother?" he spat.

"How many other children have been born with a half deformed face and given to the gypsies by their mother!" she said out of anger, but then regretted her harsh tone.

"My mother did give me away then…" he whispered more to himself, then looked over at the woman claiming to be his sister. Now he just looked hurt, his eyes full of pain and suffering.

Aimee sighed, and then reached into her coat and pulled out an old looking and somewhat faded baby outfit. Carefully and slowly she came closer to Erik, holding out the tiny piece of clothing.

"This was yours, I found it one night when I was little and asked my Aunt about it, and she described you. Erik, I want to help you, and be there for you. You don't have to be alone. I want to be your sister," she said firmly.

Erik held the outfit gently, looking it over, feeling how soft it was. He then gazed into the very same blue-green colored eyes that he had.

"You may regret saying those words. I'm not likely to quickly warm up to you and be the so called "brother" you want."

"I know, but you have not killed me yet, and even seem to be accepting that I am your sister, that can only be a good sign," she smiled.

"I cannot kill you," Aimee sighed with relief, "what would I have done with the body?"

Aimee frowned, her eyes widening as she stepped back from him again. The Opera Ghost smirked slightly, though something in his eyes told her he was only jesting.

"Anyway," her voice cracked and she quickly cleared her throat, "if you would like to leave this place I am inviting you to come and stay with me. I would love to help you with your image, you're a handsome man Erik you just don't see it yet."

"You're a brave woman," he commented looking her up and down.

"You have no idea," she sighed, "Oh, my name's Aimee just so you know."

"Well I'm going to have to ask you to leave now. You have given me plenty to think about Aimee – "

"Only if you promise me that I will see you again," seeing him about to protest she added, "Erik, you're not the only one without a family! You're all I got left and I'm not letting you go without a fight."

"Have you not heard the stories about me?" he cried exasperated.

"I have heard, does that mean you cannot change? You are an intelligent and talented man; you should know better, you're not mad!"

Erik was unsure how to deal with this woman. She was quite firm in her belief that he was her brother, and it seemed as though she would continue to come back no matter what he did or said. She had some good evidence too. Even as he looked at her she had the same colored eyes, same dark hair, and even a great voice. But it was still hard to believe that he actually had a sister, someone who wanted to love him. Love, actual selfless love, he didn't know how to act; he never thought this would ever happen to him. As a child in his cage, he would dream of a family member coming and rescuing him from his torture. But it never happened, and he gave up on the idea of family. Now here stood before him a family member, wishing to show him a normal life, it was too good to be true.

"Is this some kind of trap?" he suddenly asked.

"No! Erik, I've been searching for you for goodness knows how long! I wanted to make sure I got to you before anyone else did so I could help you in any way that I could," tears began to form in her eyes again, "Please, please, I've finally found you I don't want to loose you."

"Brave and stubborn," he sighed, "All right, all right, stop crying! I still need to think about everything though, and I can't promise anything, but maybe I'll give you a chance," he replied defeated.

Aimee smiled slightly, nodding encouragingly. As she was being swiftly and harshly escorted out, she told him where she lived and then bid him farewell. Rubbing her sore arm where the Phantom had griped it while dragging her out, Aimee stood outside for a moment watching the famous Opera Populaire with a very small smile on her face, even though her skin was as white as a ghost's. This could either completely fail or she could finally have a brother, at least she had tried. Turning, Aimee headed for home.

Author's Note: I'm here! I'm not dead! Yay! … Anyway, please forgive me for the crazy long wait! Hopefully this chapter was all right. Thanks to all my faithful readers!


	9. Chapter 9

A sister. Erik's hands froze over the keys of his organ for the fifth time. He couldn't stop thinking about … her. A sister. It just couldn't be true, this was some terrible trick. How could he accept that this random woman who simply walked into his home had the same blood as him? Growling, he slammed on the keys making them growl in return. Standing up he began to pace and wonder why it was so difficult to accept that someone actually wanted to love him and not just frivolous love but the true love of a family … the kind that can never die. Erik stopped in his tracks, a sister. This was tearing him apart, he thought at last he would be left alone, in peace, to play his music, rot, and die. He didn't need or want a … a sister to make his life better, or try to care for him. He was better off alone … right? She would want him to change and be someone he was not. She would try to make him acceptable to the world and … and not so lonely.

Erik ran a hand down his face, but quickly pulled it away after feeling his deformity. He needed sleep, and a clear head. This little Aimee girl was starting to drive him insane. With a sigh the musical genius slowly walked to his bed and laid down his head still swirling with the day's events and the image of blue-green eyes staring back at him. He was almost asleep when he thought he smelt something that wasn't quite right. It smelled like something was cooking, and then it finally register in his mind that the odor was smoke. His reflexes taking over he jumped out of bed to see an orange glow coming from the main room. Looking out he saw fire engulfing his lair. Wondering how this had happened he saw through the smoke some lit candles that had been knocked down, possibly by the many rats that lived with him. Realizing that he had little time to escape, Erik quickly grabbed his cloak and swiftly but carefully tried to make it to his boat. Unfortunately, along the way, something hit his arm causing severe pain to shoot up his nerves. Crying out, he continued on to the small boat and quickly began to row away from his destroyed home. His vision became blurred with tears not only from the smoke in his eyes but from the deep sadness now penetrating his heart.

He eventually made it out of the Opera House, and was now alone on the darkened street. He had no where to go and with an injured arm he couldn't get very far. The hospital most certainly was out of the question, one look at him and he'd be in jail. As he tried to think fast of what he could do or where he could go the image of a dark haired girl fluttered into his mind. No, he thought, I don't know her, and I don't want to get to know her. But as pain continued to run through his arm, Erik knew he really didn't have a choice. She was the only one who would help him now. Quickly he tried to remember where she told him she was staying for the night. It was an inn not too far from where he was, and by this time of night he could probably sneak in with no trouble. He carefully threw on his cloak and began to dash through the streets making sure he stayed in the shadows. There were not many people out and about, but he still could not risk being seen by anyone.

Once the Phantom finally found the inn Aimee had described, he took a peek inside to see if the owner was at the front desk. Thankfully the owner had set out a bell for late customers and was no where to be seen. Silently, the Ghost entered the inn and sped up the stairs, stopping for a moment at the top to catch his breath but gritting his teeth at the intense pain in his arm. Now he had to find the right room, she had told him the number, but what was it? Closing his eyes he tried to remember her babbling when he was escorting her out. It was twenty something … twenty … twenty-two! Opening his eyes he headed for her room but once he got there he simply stared at the door.

What was he doing? How did he actually convince himself to come here? What was it about this woman that made him act so different? If it was anyone else he knew he would not have come, he would have done something else or simply died. But here he was outside her door, about to ask for her help, her help! He never asked for help. A part of him must have believed that this girl was actually his sister, and right now that part was beginning to win as the throbbing in his arm was not dying down. Finally he knocked on her door and after a few minutes he knocked again. Suddenly the door was opened and there she was, somewhat disheveled and blurry-eyed from sleep. Blinking a few times Aimee suddenly realized who was standing in front of her, her face turned confused and he opened her mouth to say something when her eyes caught a glimpse of blood on his arm. She then realized that he smelled smoky and his face and hair had ashes on them.

"Oh, Erik," was all she could say as she quickly stepped aside to let him in. He finally entered the room, stumbling somewhat, exhaustion settling in. Aimee thankfully caught him and sat him on the bed, "What happened?" she asked taking a look at his arm and pulling back his sleeve.

"My home … it's … it's gone," he whispered not looking at her, wincing at the pain he felt.

"Thank goodness you're all right."

Aimee went to the bathroom and came back with a bowl of water and several towels. She knelt down beside him and began to clean his wound. Erik watched her. As Aimee glanced up he turned away. He felt so weak and useless, he shouldn't have come here.

"You're not going anywhere you know?" Aimee stated plainly as she wrapped his arm, "You are going to stay here for the rest of the night and in the morning you are coming home with me, end of story."

"I don't have to do anything you say!" he whispered fiercely, "You do not own me and I still don't even believe that you are my sister."

"Then why did you come?" she snapped.

Erik was silent. His arm finally bandaged he moved away from her and stood in the middle of the room. He was tired, confused, and angry. He wanted to leave but he had no where to go and he wouldn't get far anyway with his damaged arm. He heard the girl sigh from behind him.

"All right, Erik, I'm sorry. You are a grown man who can do as he pleases, but will you at least stay the night, where else would you go?"

He turned to look at her and faintly nodded. Aimee relaxed and smiled walking to the closet and pulling out some extra blankets which she set on the floor. To Erik's surprise the girl laid herself down and started to pull the covers over herself.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Going to bed, what does it look like? Good night Erik," she smiled and turned on her side.

Looking at the bed she left for him, Erik was dumbfounded. He spent several moments glancing back and forth at the girl on the floor and the bed ready to take him to sleep. An act of kindness, a real act of compassion, even if she wasn't his sister he could get use to being treated with dignity. Slowly he slipped into bed taking one last look at the dark haired girl. A sister … why not?

Aimee woke the next morning her back stiff her neck aching. Looking over at the bed she was surprised to see that the Opera Ghost was still there sleeping soundly and peacefully. She couldn't help but smile as she stood up and stretched. Quietly she readied herself and packed her things for the train ride home. Eventually she found herself gazing down on the slumbering Phantom, the deformed part of his face showing itself in the morning light. Aimee studied his so called ugly features. His skin was slightly red and scared and uneven, but it wasn't horrifying. People were probably more afraid of him than his face. She realized that his face had turned into his scapegoat for all his problems. She could understand why, but it was time he got a new attitude about his features and himself. If only he would let her help him.

With a sigh, Aimee continued to pack her suitcase. As she did, Erik slowly began to wake up and was soon sitting up and gazing at her.

"Aimee?"

"Morning, just getting packed up my train leaves in about half an hour and I need to get going. I'm very homesick," she came over to him and suddenly gave him a hug her eyes looking misty, "I'm glad I met you and know you're all right. Please take care of yourself."

"Uh … Aimee," being caught off guard by the hug Erik tried to get his wits together, "If it hadn't been for the fire … I mean … I normally wouldn't but … what I wanted to ask," he sighed trying to figure out what he wanted to say.

"Get your cloak on Erik, or we'll be late for the train," Aimee smiled tossing his cloak on his lap and picking up her suitcase.

The train ride home was thankfully uneventful. Erik had simply left his hood up and Aimee kept him close by so he would wander off into trouble. Finally Aimee and her brother were home, she stopped on the small path leading to her front door to gaze up at her cozy house.

"Welcome home Erik," she said glancing at him. He also observed the house wondering if this place would ever feel like home.

"How did you ever get me to come here?"

"With a little sisterly love, and I think deep down you want a new start for your life, and I just so happen to be at the right place at the right time," she answered leading him into the house, "Now, first things first … a bath."

Erik looked down at himself, his clothes were dirty and he still smelled like smoke.

"I suppose I can't argue with you on that point," he sighed realizing that this "new life" was going to take some adjusting to.

--

Author's Note: Hopefully the next chapter will be better.


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